


Coffee.

by kfloser



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kfloser/pseuds/kfloser
Summary: Just some random fluff to get us through the Pupcake drought. || AU in which the accident never happened, and Delia & Patsy are living in domestic bliss.





	

One of the most beautiful things about Poplar was the 7 a.m. sky in Spring - it sort resembled a painting. The random strokes of soft orange, and the rosy blush towards the bottom of the skyline. It was as if someone had painted a canvas blue, and blindfolded themselves, and dragged the brush along randomly. Where the pink and blue merged, it created a faint lilac. Patsy only wished she had a camera, so she could show Delia - who was very rarely awake at this time. She always remembered the sky - each morning it’d be different; the orange would’ve moved, or clouds would litter the blue, shielding the sun. 

The only reason Patsy would be awake at this time, on her day off, was so she could wake Delia up. It was selfish, and she knew this, but she loved to wake Delia up. To see a tired, lazy smile tug on the others’ lips, and to brush her tousled hair behind her ear, and mumble “Good morning”. It was a glorious sight - and Delia hated being woken up, especially when it wasn’t needed. It was better than watching the sun rise sleepily over the docks, and illuminate the streets in a pale orange glow. Patsy checked the clock that hung over the oven - 7:13 a.m. Surely a reasonable time to wake Delia up? The ginger woman had convinced herself this, anyway. 3 minutes later, she walked into their shared bedroom, holding two steaming mugs of dark coffee. 

”Deels,” Patsy muttered the words softly, placing the cups down on the bedside table. Patsy’s certain you never really know you love someone until you wake them up in the morning - until you see their expression change from a disgruntled frown, to a smile that rivals the warmth of the sun itself; until you listen to someone greet you in a sleepy voice, with their eyes half-shut, and hair a ruffled mess - the smell of yesterday’s perfume clinging to their skin as you kiss their cheek. To Patsy Mount, that was heaven. She could relive waking Delia up over and over again, and the warmth in her chest would never fade. Living with the girl meant she did get this, whenever they both had the day off. Delia grumbled, but opened one eye. As soon as she saw Patsy perched on the side of the bed, her frown altered to a grin. “G’morning,” Delia mumbled, shutting her eyes again. The smile remained on the younger woman’s lips as she pulled the sheets closer to her chin. “I’ll never tire of waking up to you,” Delia’s words were barely audible, but loud enough for Patsy to hear. Patience Mount had never felt so lucky in her life - not until tomorrow morning, anyway. “I’ll never get tired of waking you up, either,” she replied, sipping her coffee. 

A few moments of adoration filled silence passed, before Delia actually opened her eyes, and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Delia placed a hand on Patsy’s cheek, and pulled the girl in for a quick kiss. “Coffee,” Delia mumbled, as soon as they pulled apart. Patsy’s lips formed her trademark half smile in response, and handed Delia her own mug. “What time is it?” Delia asked, sipping the coffee slowly. Patsy looked into her cup sheepishly, trying to act entranced by the hot black liquid. “7:24,” she replied eventually, glancing to her watch. Delia huffed, and took a gulp of her coffee.   
”I would’ve liked a lie in,” she raised an eyebrow as she looked to her girlfriend, who’s red hair shielded the rosy blush on her otherwise pale cheeks.   
”I wanted to make the most of our day off, Deels. We don’t get many - not together, at least,” Patsy looked up, meeting Delia’s eyes.   
”It’d be easier to be irritated if you weren’t so charming, Nurse Mount,” Delia scorned, her words holding little effect, since the loving glimmer in her azure eyes countered the harshness of her tone. 

”What’s on the cards for today?” Delia asked, prompting Patsy to check the calender on the wall.  
”Nothing, actually. Just a lazy day,” Patsy smiled, as she took the mugs back into the kitchen, with Delia groggily following behind her. “I was thinking we could try our hands at baking,” Patsy leaned against the counter, raking a hand through her loosely curled ginger locks, and folding her arms across her chest. Delia instantly grimaced “I’m not really very good at it, Pats,” she scrunched her nose up, and opened the kitchen curtains. Patsy reached towards the cupboards, and withdrew flour, and sugar. “Nonsense, Busby. You’re good at everything,” Patsy reassured the girl, with a kiss on her head, and her usual “you’ll end up doing it because you love me” smile, which always worked. “Fine- fine.” Delia agreed, and washed her hands under the taps. 

”Right, the recipe says we must first cream the butter and sugar,” Patsy read out the instructions. “Luckily for you, Deels, I’ve pre-measured everything.” She gestured to the bowls filled with ingredients. Delia silently thanked the organisational goddess that was Patience Mount. Delia grabbed the wooden spoon, slowly mixing the two components together. “See, not so bad,” Patsy grinned from ear-to-ear, with a doting shimmer adorning her cornflower blue eyes. Outside, the pretty colours had faded - but any sky could look pretty when you were with someone you loved. Even the most drab, overcast sky could hold beauty when you viewed it with someone who made your heart flutter. “I’ll whisk the eggs,” Patsy grabbed the tools, and started to stir the picture whilst Delia struggled to cream the butter. “Less force, Delia. You’re not beating someone up,” Patsy joked, whisking the eggs with ease, and passed them to Delia, so she could mix them in. Delia smiled sarcastically, stirring the mix in. No bumps in the road, this time. Patsy wandered off to grab some milk from the corner store, and Delia thought this an opportune moment. She dipped her hands in the flour on the side, and waited by the front door. As soon as Patsy entered, Delia placed her hands on Patsy’s flushed cheeks, and pressed a firm kiss to Patsy’s lips, giving the other girl very little time to shut the door. 

The giggles that escaped Delia’s lips were questionable to Patsy. “Delia, what’ve you done?” The taller woman questioned sternly, tilted her head to the side. She raised her fingertips to brush against her own cheek, swiping up some of the flour. “Delia Busby. I wasn’t aware that you’re actually eleven years old!” Patsy exclaimed, despite the slow smile that crept onto her lips, and the laugh that threatened to shatter her angry façade. Seeing how funny Delia found her own prank was more entertaining than the actual prank itself - the red flush on Delia’s cheeks as her laughter filled the room, as sweet as honey. Patsy shook her head, and walked into the kitchen. “You’re utterly ridiculous,” the redhead mused, a smile tugging on her lips as Delia straightened up, and walked back into the kitchen. “I think it quite suits me,” Patsy surveyed herself in the mirror above the kitchen sink, as she mixed the flour in with the other ingredients.  
”Anything suits you, Pats,” Delia added casually, wrapping her arms around Patsy’s waist, and resting her head on Patsy’s back. Delia stayed there for a while, just enjoying the warmth Patsy provided, and the faint scent of barley sugars. “Thank you, darling,” the other girl placed the mixing bowl down, and turned to face the Welshwoman, who rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Are you still tired?” Patsy implored, quirking an eyebrow. Delia nodded slowly, and leaned forward into Patsy, who just wrapped her arms tightly around the other girl, as if to keep her upright. “Lie down on the sofa,” Patsy instructed, and Delia did as she was told, not wishing to argue. 

An hour of Delia being asleep passed, and Patsy worked tirelessly to bake the perfect cake - decorating it intricately with strawberries, and raspberries, and sherbet from the local sweet shop. A shiver ran down Patsy’s spine - it felt like she was being watched. She turned around quickly, just to see Delia leaning against the fridge. “Don’t mind me, just admiring the view,” she mumbled, attempting to wink - which ultimately resulted in half her face flinching. “I thought that would be a lot more charming,” she shrugged, striding over to Patsy, who’s usually pristine hair had become limp and straight from her tireless baking efforts. Delia pushed herself up onto the counter, just in front of Patsy. “I don’t know if I’ve told you today, but I love you,” Delia started, and felt the overwhelming need to continue “Sometimes I don’t have a specific reason for loving you, I just do. There are tons and tons of reasons to love you, but sometimes I’ll look over, and see you just reading, or doing your hair and I’ll think about how much I adore you, and then I’ll small, because I remember you love me too,” Delia licked the frosting off a strawberry as she finished her little speech. Patsy scrunched up her nose, her lips spreading into a cheek-splitting grin: a smile brighter than the lightbulbs in their flat, and holding so much happiness, it spread out onto Delia. “You’re something else, Busby.” Patsy shook her head, cupping the girls cheeks, and peppering her entire face with small kisses. “But you’re right, I do love you, too.”


End file.
